That Habs jersey
by KiwiSun
Summary: A quick Sami Zayn one shot: Is there anything sexier than your woman wearing your team's jersey?


Rami stirred as she rolled over. His eyelids were heavy, and it took a couple of blinks before he could focus. She was propped up on her elbow, looking down at him with a look of pure adoration in her eyes. To her, there was nothing cuter than a sleepy Rami in the morning. The sun was peeking through the curtains and gave a soft tone to his features. She gently ran her index finger across his forehead, wiping a stray bundle of fringe off his skin. A soft kiss replaced her finger, and she whispered "I'll get breakfast started" as she rolled over and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Rami watched as she reached to the dresser, taking a hair tie and swishing her hair up into a messy bun. With her arms up, the full shape of her body had its greatest effect. Rami loved her curves, a real woman has curves, he had always thought. He watched as she put her hair up; he gazed over her shoulders, down her spine and saw the rounded sides of her breasts on either side, her frame narrowing in at her ribs before curving outwards again at her hips. The gentle line separating her buttocks met the sheets. She was utterly delicious. A section of wayward hair that hadn't been included in the bun lingered at the bottom of her neck. Just as he thought of reaching over and touching her, she got up and sauntered towards the door. She stopped at the door frame, leaned into their washing basket and took out his Canadiens jersey. She pulled it over her upper body, looked back towards him and smiled. Once she disappeared around the corner, Rami let his head drop back on to the bed, with a big sigh. He was marrying that girl. The best decision he'd ever made, asking for her hand.

The smell of pancakes started to waft through the house. How could he have it this good? A beautiful lady with a heart of gold, who could make magic in the kitchen. He was a lucky man. His stomached grumbled, and he rolled out of bed, with a hand through his hair. He grabbed his phone and made his way towards the kitchen. Reading through a message from his brother, he made his way up the hall. He stopped to look at her before reading the message out to her, but once he laid eyes on her, he couldn't find the words. She was standing at the bench, he couldn't see what her hands were doing. Her back was to him, and the only skin on show was now her bottom, and her shapely legs. She wasn't tall, didn't have the long legs he'd been known to take a shine to previously. But they suited her. They were shapely, soft and smooth. The sun provided a backlight through the roll down blinds, and in the golden light she looked almost angelic. An angel making him pancakes in a Habs jersey. As his stomach grumbled, another part of his body stirred also. Like a sweet nectar, no matter how many times he'd tasted her, he could never get enough. He positioned his phone and took a quick picture. It wasn't often he could get her this naturally, this beautifully, without her knowing. He admired his artistic shot before placing the phone on the bookshelf beside him.

He moved forward, softly and silently, wanting to surprise her. While the smell of pancakes was strong, the closer he got to her, the more he could smell her. He'd never be able to quite sum it up, her natural scent, but he knew he'd never be able to forget it. It was softly sweet, almost floral, but not overwhelming. A gentle, feminine smell that lingered on her clothes, her pillow, her towel. When work separated them for periods of time, he would roll to her side of the bed and think about her. Her pheromones soothed him.

Reaching out his middle finger, he ran it from the bottom of her spine to the base of her neck. There was a small twitch from her, not expecting the touch, but not shirking it. She knew who it was, what he was doing. Small sparks trailed behind his fingers, leaving her with closed eyes and a small smile broke on to her face. He placed one hand on her left hip, while the other dragged those stray strands from her skin. He bent his head down, and placed a trail of soft kisses on her neck. She leaned in to his touch, dropping the butter knife in her hand on to the bench. He inhaled as he dragged his nose back towards her neck. She rolled her head to the other side, elongating her neck for him. Using his arm on her hip to pull her in towards him, he kissed his way up her neck, stopping at her ear lobe. This was her weak point, and he knew it. He placed his lips over it and sucked gently. She drew in a breath and made a small moan as she exhaled. His hands ran up her sides, from her thighs, over her hips, across her stomach, coming to rest just under her chest. He pulled her back into him, knowing full well she could feel his hardened penis pressing against her lower back. Running the tip of his tongue up her neck, while taking the weight of her right breast in his hand with a gentle squeeze, he whispered "Come back to bed." Her hands dropped to her side, she ran them softly up the outside of his thighs, positioned either side of hers. He felt so good, pressed against her, his desire clear, but his love also. Her skin was on fire underneath his lips, and it was igniting throughout her body. She forced herself back into reality for a moment, turning off the element and removing the frying pan. The pancakes would reheat. She turned her body to face him, placing her hands behind his neck. He let his hands follow her figure and come to rest on her perky bum. He bent his head down towards her mouth. They kissed softly, as she pulled him closer with her hand in his hair. "Take me back to bed," she whispered against his lips. His hands firmed on her hips, and he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, buried her head into his neck, as he carried her towards the bedroom. She replicated his kisses on her own neck, with her fingers wrapping through his hair. He came to a stop at the foot of the bed. Adjusting his hands to one behind her head and the other on her spine, he dropped one knee on the bed as he carefully lay her down. He stood, taking her in, one leg slightly bent up, the other out straight, running one hand across her collarbone. Wearing nothing but that jersey. Utterly irresistible, he thought, biting his lip, as he climbed onto the bed and lowered himself on top of her.


End file.
